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SARAH CARSON I FIND A STACK OF VHS TAPES I MADE WHEN WAS AT THE CHRISTIAN COLLEGE WHERE I STUDIED FILMMAKING AND NOW I'M THINKINNG ABOUT THE THEORY OF INFINITE UNIVERSES How I learned to crop a moment lengthwise, the way a razor cuts both in and through. The story I've carried with me— wound tight against a lock plate— is soft where the tape spliced, rearranged from fragments. My sister knee high to the milk thistle, my mother at the window ticking like a fawn. Think of it all like a kid who's strung two VCRs together: one timeline on pause, the other edging forward. Two moments about to merge while all the others fade to black. This morning on the highway, a crotch rocket buzzed past me like a homing missile, & I thought of my father, who sold his motorcycle when I was still in diapers. In this universe, it was him running me from the house after another failed fight about who gets to become their dreaming. What came next? What happened after? It's not just God who chooses from infinite arrangements. I have also decided what to remember, what I won't let others see. |